rcome this.

*

Yesterday was a year since I lay at the foot of the rock. I could not
write a word. My brain whirled with the thoughts of that day; but now
it is over.

*

I don't think I shall write much more. I have now experienced all the
seasons in my new world. The circle is complete. There is nothing new
to come from without. I know all that exists about me, or that can
happen. I am at home in my new world.

*

Unto Jesus the scribes and pharisees brought a woman who was to be
stoned to death, and he said unto them: "Let him that is without sin
among you, cast the first stone."

Thus it is written.

But I ask: How did she continue to live? She who was saved from being
stoned to death; she who was pardoned, that is, condemned to live? How
did she live on? Did she return to her home? How did she stand with the
world? And how with her own heart?

No answer. None.

I must find the answer in my own experience.

*

"Let him that is without sin among you, cast the first stone." These
are the noblest, the greatest words ever uttered by human lips, or
heard by human ear. They divide the history of the human race into two
parts. They are the "let there be light" of the second creation. They
divide and heal my little life, too, and create me anew.

*

Has one who is not wholly without sin, a right to offer precepts and
reflections to others?

Look into your own heart. What are you?

Behold my hands. They are hardened by toil. I have done more than
merely lift them in prayer.

*

Since I am alone, I have not seen a letter of print. I have no book and
wish for none, and this is not in order to mortify myself, but because
I wish to be perfectly alone.

*

She who renounces the world, and, in her loneliness, still cherishes
the thought of eternity, has assumed a heavy burden.

Convent life is not without its advantages. The different voices that
join in a chorale sustain each other, and when the tone at last ceases,
it seems to float away on the air and vanish by degrees. But here I am
quite alone. I am priest and church, organ and congregation, confessor
and penitent, all in one, and my heart is often so heavy, as if I must
needs have, another to help me bear